Second Chance
by MarcRLuce
Summary: Susan and Marcus and Garibaldi......... coming together in a rather unique set of circumstances. Thanks in advance for any comments and reviews.


A Second Chance

Marc R. Luce

Day 1 – 10:00AM

Two luminous globes, each a half meter in diameter hovered perfectly still in the air. Although not raising or lowering, they shimmered and pulsed with shifting colors and patterns of light as they communicated with each other.

"His condition is most impressive, is it not?"

"Yes, among all that we were able to bring, it appears much care was taken into preparing him for storage."

"Yes, much care indeed."

"Has the environment been prepared?"

"Yes, as exact as records allow. We'll be able to observe closely."

"Good. He's continuing to improve, let's leave now before he awakens."

Marcus Cole awoke lying on a cold metallic table. It was the kind of awakening where both eyes only do you as much good as one, in the fog, after a night of drinking, a lot of drinking. He was just beginning to register shapes and sounds as he felt the tug of sleep pull his mind to rest. As his eyes closed he tried to say, but perhaps only thought to himself, "Bloody Vorlons…"

Day 1 – 11:00AM

Marcus Cole awoke lying on a cold metallic table, again. Waking fully this time, he laid still and surveyed his surroundings as best he could. War Room, Babylon 5, some time after the victory at Corrianus Six. He could tell by the lack of Shadow and Vorlon status indicators on the displays, nothing but position and strength symbols of President Clarks forces. Odd thing was, among some floating feeling that he was still asleep, or otherwise not fully yet awake, the room was empty. Even in the darkest of night cycles on Babylon 5 the War Room had people in it. Updating fleet positions, bringing food or coffee to the staff or poor old Sheridan who seemed to haunt the place, always _someone_.

Where was everybody? An attack? They couldn't be making the final offense to retake Earth already. That was at least a week away. If there were an attack, they would have woken him up. He would have woken himself up, trained to sleep lightly when on duty. But here he was, in the War Room, looking at displays of Mars, Earth, both Moon Bases but no people.

He sat up, and then quickly thought better of it. The room, empty as it was except for the various computers, conference tables and chairs spun in his head. "Alright then. Slow is the plan." Letting the room settle in his vision, he spied the closest terminal with a chair in front of it. Slowly, carefully, he shifted his body to the table edge and lowered his feet.

"Owwwwww……needles!" he cried out, his feet torturing him with thousands of little explosions. He reached for his pike, wanting to extend it as a crutch, but it was not there. Expecting it to be, he had already shifted his weight and fell flat on his side.

The leather pouch for his pike was on his belt, but empty. He ran his fingers over it, noticing his head now hurt more than enough from the fall to distract him from the needles still picking his feet. He lay there mostly still for a few minutes, then slowly, carefully stood with his hands on the same table he'd awoken on.

"Better then. Now, computer, where in the Devil is everybody?" His question was directed at the nearest console, but no reply came. "Computer, respond. Where is the command staff? Locate Captain Sheridan? Commander Ivoniva? Franklin? Hello, Computer?"

Marcus slowly walked forward, shifting more than stepping to keep the impact on each foot and thus the needles to a minimum. He reached the chair in front of the terminal and slouched down as much as sat. "All right then, that little Centauri chap who makes those great Shirley Temples in the Zocolo, hmm, how about him. Can you tell me where in the bugger-all anybody is?"

There was no response from the computer again, at least at first. Then, over the crackly speaker box in the front of the terminal came a familiar yet somehow distant voice. "Marcus….Marcus is that you?"

Marcus bent down to get his ear closer to the speaker but it made no more sounds. He sat in thought a moment or two. "Garibaldi, is that you?

Day 1 – 12:00PM

* * *

The speaker box replied. "Marcus, hello! How are you!"

"Garibaldi, where is everyone? Why was I asleep here in the War Room. Last thing I remember….." Marcus trailed off. He couldn't remember the last thing he remembered. The Shadow war was over, ok, he knew that much. '_Them and the Vorlons gone beyond the Rim. Ok, right and check. Now we need to get Clark, run in, pummel the bastard and retake Earth.'_ But that's where the stream of memories ended. Felt like those were pages in a book, clear enough he could read them. But the next few pages were written in, maybe, or maybe just smudged with dirt. He felt there was more, but had no idea why.

"Garibaldi, ok, simple enough to begin with, where are _you_?"

There was a pause after Marcus' question. "Garibaldi… hello? Look. In the next five minutes my legs are going to be fully awake and then I'm going to leave here, and most likely be damn rude to the first person I can find!"

Somewhere, tucked in a secluded bundle of living carbon-luminous-fiber strands, segmented away from anything frequently used, from anything officially indexed and cataloged, sat Michael Alfredo Garibaldi, or, at least a reasonable facsimile thereof. Garibaldi suddenly had the sensation he'd stepped across the line by talking to Marcus. With the pulse of some electrons and re-indexing of a few signal relays, he continued.

"Marcus. I can't believe it's you. It's been a long time. I know you're cranky after waking up. Sleep well?"

"No, I most definitely did not sleep well. Why I'd choose to sack out on a steel table in the middle of a busy room, well, what SHOULD be a busy room I do not know. I feel like I've been out for ages." Marcus looked around the room, double checking he was alone. It was not uncommon to have conversations with people and not see them. This was the age of sub-space relays, tachyon pulse transmitters and the like. But this just felt…different. Like he was talking to Michael but also not at the same time.

"Marcus. Look, we've got tons of time to talk. Why don't you tell me what you were doing before you fell asleep?"

Garibaldi finished checking the information stores and recent activity he felt comfortable accessing without making himself known.

"Marcus, please listen. I don't think they intended us to be talking. I don't think they really know I'm here. I think a few suspect, may even think it's funny or cute, but I've taken care so that they won't notice us talking. They'll think you're having your part in a pre-programmed conversation with the command staff."

Marcus slammed his fist on the console. "Who Garabaldi, who will think I'm talking to what pre-programmed conversation with the command staff, am I going bonkers or aren't you ON the command staff!"

"Marcus, I was on the command staff, yes. Why don't you sit down? Oh, you are sitting down. Would you like to lie down? You know I like to lie down now and again. It's relaxing. Just a nice nap to help…."

"That's it Michael. I'm not joking." Marcus stood up, taking his wobbly legs as the best he could do at the moment, and moved toward the door.

"Marcus, please…wait." The voice no longer came from the small crackly speaker but seemed to emanate from all around. "It's taken me a little bit to figure out what's going on and what they are doing. I'll try to explain as…"

"They – them – who! It's the Vorlons isn't it? I thought I saw two of them in their encounter suits just as I was waking up. I thought they all left. Did some stay behind? They're not fighting along President Clark are they? Have they taken control of Babylon 5?"

"No, not the Vorlons. They're Humans Marcus."

Marcus sat on one of the empty tables. "Come on now Garibaldi, I know a bloody Vorlon when I see one. Lights and floaty and all."

"They're not human like Tom or Bob or Hoshi. They don't have the same……. uhhh….the same fasten then zip or zip then fasten concerns lets say."

"Oh what, you're trying to say they're like some super type of human, from what, thousands of years in the future? You drinking again Garibaldi?"

"Try one million, seventy thousand, three hundred and forty two, or forty eight, depending on how you count the different solar transit times and such."

"Oh come on Michael. Everything that goes on in this place I'm willing to believe a lot, but humans parading around as Vorlons from a million years in the future, I'm not going to believe that."

"Not the future Marcus, the present. I need to give you some bad news; starting with the fact you're dead."

"Oh, I see. Dead and gone to the Vorlon Hell then perhaps? All those Kosh jokes humm? Why did the Vorlon cross the road? Stuff like that. All the times I said their encounter suits were just so they could snoggly with the other Aliens without needing a trip to medlab ehh? Just skipping a shot of penicillin from old doctor Franklin? Come on Garibaldi, at least try."

"Marcus, you died December 1st, 2261. It was the day after the final push to retake earth. We'd won. We'd lost a lot of ships. Clark had turned the Earth defense grid against the planet and he managed to kill a couple hundred thousand people before our ships were able to take the grid out. Susan was in one of the damaged ships. She was hurt Marcus, hurt bad. She'd been given five or six days to live, even the Minbari couldn't help her. You hopped back to B5 and dug out some crazy alien…"

"….healing machine." Marcus finished for him. He was starting to remember now. He could remember racing back to Babylon 5 and tearing Medlab apart. Of finding the machine secured with doctor Franklins notes on its use. That's why the end of his memory was so foggy. He'd not just died, he'd leaked, been drained until he was dead. All to save Susan. The Vorlons must have brought him back to life as a reward.

"Michael, where is Susan? Please. I don't want to play this game any more. I know it was the Vorlons, or Lorien? Michael, did Lorien save my life? I know Sheridan said he left the same time the Vorlons and Shadows did but maybe he just went away for a spell, came back for some fish and chips?"

"Marcus, please listen. It is over one million years since the day you sacrificed your life to save Ivoniva. She's long since died Marcus. You're one of a handful of prototypical humans that have been revived. Most of the people on hand are chronic disease cases, severe battle trauma and the like. The way you died, and the way Ivoniva ensured you were preserved left your body in a near perfect state. They're hoping to learn from you Marcus. A lot of our records of that time are gone, and if they…."

"So she's dead, gone then." Marcus felt the weight of the truth he was being told as he interrupted. Garibaldi did not continue and Marcus sat in the silence for some time.

Day 1 – 3:00PM

Marcus broke the long silence. "Michael, how am I talking to you then? And….how did Susan die, I mean…..what kind of life did she have up until she died?"

"She lived a long life Marcus, made it to the rank of General in Earth Force before retiring. She served as Entil'Zha for the Rangers after that when Delen retired. Loosing Sheridan took a lot of the wind out of her sails."

"Was she happy Michael, did she fall in love, marry, have any little Russian's running around the Universe with her?"

"Marcus, when the Interstellar Alliance moved to Minbar, a lot of us lost touch. I don't know how she spent her free time, but no. She never married, no children. The few times I saw her in person, even with what she accomplished with the Rangers, liberating Centauri Prime and the like, she always seemed sad Marcus. Just serious and sad. She died quietly, one hundred and seventeen years old I believe."

"She'd have been all the sadder if she knew what became of Minbar. After liberating Centauri Prime the Drakh that were forced off world made a suicide attack on Minbar. Being comprised of so much crystal, the planet was susceptible to having its outer crust damaged. Every Drakh ship in the Universe attacked Minbar, most crashing into the surface and detonating. Most of the surface soil and rock was destroyed. With that much crystal exposed, the planet cooled. In two hundred years the core had cooled to the point it was slowing down, not churning and generating magnetic belts. Cancer, genetic disease rate skyrocketed, and in less than ten more years they abandoned the planet. If you stayed inside any of their crystal buildings you were ok, but that's no way for a race to live. So….they went to the stars and never looked back."

Marcus looked at the floor, thinking about the ultimate results of his and Susan's life. "All for naught then I guess……how bout you Garibaldi, why are you here?"

"Well, just over three hundred years after we all died there was a period of deep political repression on Earth. They tried to use holo-projectors and neural transmissions to create a fictional account of most of what happened on Babylon 5. Our war with the Shadows, freeing Earth from Clark's grip and all. You can imagine how far computer science would have been by that time. They had an artificial Delen, Sheridan, Franklin, and me. Only thing was with me, they had something better than a re-creation. Look, I didn't want to spook you, but I'm going to come in the room ok?"

Marcus looked up at the door. "Sure, it's your little world I'm in." When without a sound Garibaldi appeared standing next to him."

"Oh, well. I guess a door's a rather quaint idea to you then."

The Holo-Garibaldi sat down next to Marcus looking him in the eye. "After you died Marcus, I had the good fortune of taking over Edgar's Industries. And, over the years we branched out into a lot of product areas. One of them was neural storage and transport of a persons mind. Basically storing everything that might be the first to be damaged if a person suffered brain trauma. We envisioned it as a sort of backup facility where people could store copies of their mind patterns before undergoing risky surgery, military duty, etc. Then, if for any reason they were needed, old lost memories and personality traits could be retrieved. " Garibaldi stood and started to walk around the room casually.

"But, it never worked. Or, never worked well and safely I should say. I'm not going to dwell on this, but that Psi Cop Alfred Bester fucked with my mind Marcus. He moved and pushed things to the point I wasn't me anymore. Part of the reason I was enthusiastic about Edgar's Industries developing this was the hope I'd be able to remove some of the deeper traits and blocks he implanted. After several tests and failures we abandoned the project. Bester got what he had coming Marcus, but that's another story altogether."

Garibaldi stopped pacing and stood still. "In those 300 years after I died, the company was absorbed by the Mars government. Eventually, Mars was reclaimed as a colony of Earth with all possessions, materials etc. transferring back to Earth control. When Earth Dome was looking to re-write our history, they found they had a near complete personality matrix for a Michael Alfredo Garibaldi stored in the property vaults on Mars. A few transmissions, a few programming issues and boom, we were up and running."

Garibaldi sat back against a table and became more animated, gesturing wider and wider as the story went on. "All they wanted was to make a few holo-vids to begin with, just a few short tests. Well, in the hours that my personality had been loaded into their system I started snooping around, it's what I do ya know. If they'd bothered to even TRY to understand the people they were going to smear they'd have known that. Anyway, one open port to the Stelar Com and I was out. I also discovered we were being used by a bunch of Fascist Pigs who were at war with some rebels. I sent the rebels the exact location of the propaganda lab and BAM, eight minutes later one 1-kiloton tactical nuke and the project was toast. But I had spread around so far so fast I was still there. Or, here and there."

Marcus looked amused by the tale, but still unsure. "So what then, you've just been hopping the computers of known existence for the last million years? Sounds a bit dull. Gee, I wonder what's in the bank account of citizen four-three-seven-six-six-eight-two this year? Or, how many times can I make 'God Save The King' appear in flashing lights in everyone's bathrooms? And why am I here Michael? What good has it done to pump me back full of life if people now a days are just Vorlon Lite?"

"It's not really like that Marcus. I've been to a lot of places, learned a lot of things. I spent twenty thousand years or so talking with the great machine inside Epsilon Three. But I can sleep, for lack of a better word. Just do nothing, keep my ears open as it were until something interesting comes along. And this certainly is an interesting day Marcus."

Garibaldi walked over and sat back down next to Marcus. "For the last several thousand years, lets just say ten thousand to be even about it, Humans as they are now have been acting much like the Vorlons did at one time. Gently guiding and teaching the younger races and so on. Oh, there's one race Marcus, the Broz. They're a handful. But full of promise as well, so smart and curious. And, as things have been going, all is well. The races with the capacity for space travel have all been getting along. There have been squabbles, petty little wars lasting five or ten years, but all in all we've a nice neighborhood here in the stars. That's left Humans with much time for introspection, reflection and I doubt they'd admit it, boredom."

Marcus stood and scowled. "So what then, I'm to go and live with a colony of resurrected humans in some sort of zoo? Or will I be traveling the universe as Marcus Cole the Human Throwback and the Amazing Michael Garibaldi, computer personality extraordinaire? Come see our performance Earth side three shows daily, twice Sunday?"

"Marcus, this place isn't orbiting Earth, it's orbiting the Vorlon home world. They've taken to calling the place Lorien Prime, but it's the same planet none the less."

"Oh bloody hell. What are we doing _here_?"

Garibaldi proceeded to tell Marcus the story of how, one million or so years after his death, the Sun in Earths system was going super nova. How quickly it escalated, and how little time they had to make the journey to the old Vorlon home world. All this information took time to sink in. And when done with his story Marcus sat and contemplated his place in this new universe for a while.

* * *

Day 1 – 4:00PM

Marcus paced the War Room, keeping to him self even though Garibaldi kept his image visible for company. At the same time Michael dug deep into the observation systems and made sure the watchers were getting fed artificial information that aligned with their expectations. He also checked to see as much as he could their plans for Marcus. It was the furthest he'd stretched his influence in hundreds of years, and he kind of liked it.

Marcus was still pacing the room when Garibaldi relayed some more history and his recent findings.

"Marcus, they grew this place, this copy of Babylon 5 because it was a turning point in the history of the universe. It's where all the activity related to the Shadows and Vorlons was last focused before they went beyond the rim. Most of the success's they've had in one way or another they've observed through the prism of this place. And they're excited about you Marcus. Most people have been brought back from minor pieces of DNA, memory histories programmed from what ever records are on hand, or made up as can be. But you're complete, and acting on your own original memories and personality traits."

Marcus stood and walked over to the railing leading up to the room's entrance. "Hold on now, did you say they grew this place? As in a little pot, some dirt, Jack and his magic Babylon beans? And is this complete? Am I going to walk out of here into Blue Sector? Can I go up to C&C? Can I stop by Londo's and ask for hair care tips?"

"Yes, it's complete, been up and running, oh, 100 years or so. And yes, it's was grown. Remember the Vorlons had biological machines Marcus. Well, this is really no different. Just made to resemble the old B5, not anything new or current. Grew it on one of the farms on Minbar I believe. Put it in orbit around Vorlon and here we are. Or you are at lest, I'm kinda spread around. And I have an idea on what their plans are regarding you."

"Farms on Minbar… well, universe has changed. Minbari in blue overalls, tilling the ground and such…I know – planets empty."

"Marcus, right now there are pheromones that are supposed to be getting pumped into the room. They're designed to stimulate your brain into believing you're in the last day of planning the assault on Earth. That you're talking with the command staff and to give the illusion this place is filled with all the people coming and going you'd expect. Tomorrow there is going to be a White Star showing up, you're going to get in it and take off to the battle lines around what you will think is Mars. Have a simulated fight with all the other Alliance ships, and then return to here. They're expecting you to sacrifice yourself for Susan again."

Marcus stopped pacing and stood in front of the main tactical display, looking at the details of Earth's solar system. "So, I'm to die again, for their pleasure. You know, despite the accent and all I was never big on Shakespeare. More of a Mallory man, Morte De'Arthur and the like. I'll play my part, good little Ranger to the end."

Garibaldi walked over next to him and adjusted his image strength so Marcus would actually feel his hand as he placed it on Marcus's shoulder. "Marcus, I'm sorry. I could try to rig the White Star, actually make it responsive to your commands. I've played with the farm controls on a few worlds before. One time, rather than a White Star, I had the farm on Ceti-Alpha Three grow a fleet of giant Daffy Ducks."

Garibaldi turned, leaning his back on the board, stretching his arms out to emphasize how big the ducks were. "Oh, that knocked back their confidence a bit I tell ya. Spent four hundred years trouble shooting the entire planet. I just popped back to Epsilon Three for a bit and laughed. Drall the two thousand and twelfth has got quite a hold on the place, and still a soft spot for us old Babylon 5'ers. Even as they are now the Humans can't get into his systems or planet side without his allowing it. They had no idea it was me, popped back here when they'd given up finding the problem. "

Marcus looked casually along the displays in front of him. "Where would I go Michael? I don't know any of the new races, can't say I'm eager to meet them." Marcus reached out and touched the display, running his fingers over the image of old Earth.

"I would have liked to have seen her grave… or the ground at least. Million years grows a lot of grass and trees I'd guess."

Garibaldi looked at the board, then back at Marcus. "Marcus, she wasn't buried on Earth; she was put into the Anla'Shok Memorial Tomb on Minbar."

Marcus turned and grabbed the holo-Garibaldi by the arms with so much force the image shimmered and skipped then stabilized. "Michael, tell me _exactly_ what resources there are on Minbar."

Day 1 – 5:00PM

As a sentient computer intelligence, Garibaldi had no trouble keeping up with Marcus's stream of ideas, questions, more questions and more ideas then followed by twice as many questions. He was amazed that so much of the Marcus he remembered came through in his revival. In contrast, he expected trouble convincing him his idea was a nutty, world class, grade A, why don't you put two jump gates back to back and press the 'on' switch category of insane.

Marcus continued his non-stop, three hour long recital of his plan. "So, then, when we get there, enough time will have passed and no one will be the wiser. Right? Come on Garibaldi, you said you've done stuff like this before."

"Marcus…yes. I've played with the farming systems before. I know how to get around the security and all that. But that's not really what the areas on Minbar were made for. I mean it's all very similar, but the workers are different. Imagine a potato, a potato the size of a cow. With tentacles, eight green tentacles and twelve eyes. Ok, it's not much like a potato."

"Garibaldi, you offered to help. I want to take you up on that offer. The things that are using me for their pleasure, learning, research, whatever, they are screwing with me at least as much as that Psi Cop messed with you. Help me with this, please. I can't do it alone Michael."

There was a pause that hung in the air. Marcus tried to find a hint of thought one way or the other in the projected face he was looking at, but none was to be found. All sign of emotion had been put on hold. Garibaldi broke out of his frozen stature. "It's not that I'm really afraid you know. There's enough of me around the Universe here and there I can't exactly be deleted, even if they wanted to. But I like it here. The systems are so biological and living. It's kinda cozy. Next best thing to here is Epsilon Three. Bigger system, that's for sure, stretches out all over. Great place to go and get lost."

Marcus looked him dead in the eye. "That's my plan Michael, that's my plan."

* * *

Day 1 – 7:00PM

Garibaldi divided his time between communicating with the White Star en' route to them, the farms on Minbar and with continuing to feed the observers faulty observation data. On Minbar he found available worker potato's and sent then to the other side of the planet, taking the necessary tools with them. When they arrived at the old Capital city, it was difficult to find the Ranger's buildings. A million years had allowed some meteorite hits, generic decay, and a few off world scavengers.

Slowly they orientated themselves with the records of cities layout and proceeded in. Spires of crystal laid in the streets, shiny and gleaming, especially at the breaks or cracks. The entry to the Anla'Shok Memorial Tomb was still open, and large enough for them to enter. Hovering mostly, scuttling along on their tentacles while barely touching the ground they entered the building.

Marcus was sitting in a seat at one of the empty meeting tables. "Ok. So we've got approximately twelve hours until the White Star is here, then another twelve after I leave. Will that be enough time?"

Garibaldi was using so many resources he'd shut down the image of himself and was now talking from the rooms speakers. "Yes, that should be enough time. Twenty four hours till the pickup, another eight or so till you land, thirty-two all together. I have a complete record of what the actual facts were, you need to begin to write the modification Marcus. If it's going to have full effect, I should have the whole thing no more than 4-5 hours from now."

Marcus stood and went over to the closest terminal. "Alight then, begin recording. All nominal and standard up to November 30th 2261. Partial Earth reclamation fleet engaged prior to leaving Babylon 5 space, Commander Susan Ivoniva's White Star damaged and forced to crash on Epsilon Three……"

Deep inside the Anla'Shok Memorial Tomb on Minbar the workers were moving from reliquary to reliquary. Gently wiping away the dust and debris from each name plate; they continued their delicate and respectful work until they came across their target. Gently pushing the dust of a million plus years to the side, some twenty four eyes read the engraved name of 'Susan Ivoniva.'

He decided against letting Marcus know they'd found her. He needed Marcus to concentrate on writing the fictional events as fully as possibly for this to have any chance of working. It'd been millions of years since Michael Alfredo Garibaldi had felt blood coursing through his body, but he remembered the way he'd seen Marcus look at Susan. Hopeful news at this point could distract him to a dangerous extent.

"Marcus, how's it coming?"

"Good Michael. Do you think we should actually see Babylon 5 destroyed, or just have the data readouts of it on the crashed White Star?"

"Go for seeing it Marcus, I've got footage from the decommissioning ceremony. She exploded like a volcano; it'll make for quite a memory. Real or otherwise."

Day 1 – 8:00PM

In the center of the old Capital City on Minbar, two workers gently removed the clothing and decayed biological material from the reliquary. They placed them onto a large sheet of luminescent cloth, shimmering and flowing with rivers of green and blue energy currents. All the energy currents then turned a vibrant shade of purple. Two sets of twelve eyes looked at each other in agreement; it was working, and working well.

Marcus stood and stretched, looking at the walls, floors, anything to relieve his eyes from the strain of looking at the console the last several hours. "Alright Michael, I'm done. Look it over and let me know if I should change anything. Have they found her yet? Any news?"

"Yes Marcus, they've found her. As far as can be told at this point it is going well. The White Star will be here shortly. Do you know what you need to do?"

"Yes. When I get to Minbar, what will….I mean, how will…, I mean… what do I do?"

"Let the ship land on its own. The workers will help you and be along for the ride, they'll need to keep working and monitoring most of the way. I've been talking with the White Star for a while now and it understands what is being done. After Minbar it will take you to Epsilon Three, Drall is ready also. When the time is right it will do what must be done."

Marcus felt nervous for the first time since beginning his plan. "Anything else before I go? Won't the people making all this happen suspect something, try to bring me back?"

"I'll take care of that, and once you're in orbit of Epsilon Three, you've got no worries. Drall's set up someplace on the far continent. It will look old, abandoned, but useable. "

"I'm transmitting now Marcus. Get some rest if you can. White Star will be here soon." Garibaldi sent the set of information Marcus had constructed to the workers on Minbar, where it was immediately put to use.

"Ok Michael. Not much chance I'll rest, but will give it a go." Despite his doubt, Marcus put his head down into his folded arms and quickly fell asleep.

Being resurrected, talking to an old friend a million years old and inside a computer, while plotting to bring the love of your life back from a planet twenty light years away all the while fooling pseudo-Vorlon observers makes one sleepy.

* * *

Day 2 – 7:00AM

Marcus awoke with a start. Dreaming? Nightmare? What was going on. Slowly as he cleared the sleep from his eyes he remembered. "Garibaldi, whats going on. Where's the ship?"

"It's here Marcus, just a bit ago. When you're ready. It's going to be hard for me to do everything I need to plus mask your reaction between here and the shuttle bay. Try to imagine you're seeing the normal comings and goings before a battle. It will help."

"Michael, thank you. I don't know if this will work, but thank you. It's the best thing I can think to do with this second chance I've been given. Are you sure you'll be ok?"

Garibaldi spent the processing power to appear momentarily. "I'll be fine Marcus. Gonna spend some time with Drall for a bit, watch over you two with him. Maybe swing by what's left of Centauri prime. Even now, after all the hell that planet has been through there's a monument with statues of Londo and Vir on it. Might have a drink with them for old time sake. Things will cool off here in a couple hundred years, a thousand at most. I'll come back. I had a good life with Lise Marcus. You will be provided for by Drall, but a bit alone. Make the most of it."

Before Marcus could respond the image disappeared. "Go to the ship now Marcus, best be on your way. Let the controls take you to Minbar on their own. When you leave there you can take over, and good luck."

"Thank you Michael, I will." Marcus walked up the stairs and out the room's only door.

He walked down the corridors and halls, all the way pretending to say hello and acknowledge the people passing by. A short ride in an elevator and he was to the shuttle bay. Going to the only docked shuttle he entered, and watched the interior of the bay fly by. One minute later he was exiting the giant central port at the end of the station. He looked back at where he was leaving, chipped blue paint and brilliant white lights all along her surface from front to back, all around each section. Still gazing back he felt the ship slow down and as he turned his view, saw them enter the docking bay of a beautiful White Star. Gleaming blue and white exterior, surface as smooth as a still saucer of cream. He made it to the bridge and sat in the Captains chair. Without a word from him the ship spun in place and launched forward toward a blossoming jump point.

On Minbar, two workers were busy singing. Their long tentacles that could be as hard as diamonds, or as soft as goose down, were stroking the newborn being. Their songs helped shape the rapidly forming life they cradled; now aged close to sixteen but still asleep, being filled with memories that to this point were original and un-altered.

Day 2 9:00PM

The White Star descended into the capital city on Minbar with a whisper, bringing the first human to visit the planet in a million years. It touched down a few dozen meters away from its additional passengers. Marcus lowered the ramp and watched, just as Garibaldi described, two eight tentacled, twelve eyed, cow sized potato's carry a shimmering, purple cloth draped figure aboard. They paused at the top of the ramp, and as he closed it, they gently tugged the cloth aside enough for him to see the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his life. Susan Ivoniva; aged all of twenty five or twenty eight years, sleeping like a baby.

Marcus returned to the bridge, followed by the workers and their precious cargo. As he spoke to the ship, telling it to breach orbit, they began to sing. It was mesmerizing and peaceful at the same moment. With every lift and valley of their voices the colors and lights of the cloth changed hue, brightness and tint.

Their singing continued as the ship entered the jump point on its way to Epsilon Three.

Day 2 10:00PM

Along the trip through hyperspace Marcus sat and watched the workers. Such love and attention, he hoped his feeling for her could somehow compare.

While still feeling the jump vortex close behind him, Marcus was hailed over the ships com system. "Marcus, is that you? Please respond, this is Drall on the planet below."

"Yes Drall, hello. Nice to be here in this space again. Where should I land?"

"I'm guiding the ship now Marcus. Don't worry, and don't touch a thing."

Marcus sat still as requested and the White Star descended onto the planets southern continent. A full half globe away from the only known fissure leading into the great machine below, they landed outside a small settlement of buildings.

They moved to the access ramp and all four, Marcus, two workers and a fully grown and still slumbering Susan moved onto the planets surface. When just outside one of the small buildings they stopped. One of the workers slowly stroked the cloth wrapping Susan, and as it did so both sang. The cloth slowly folded, creasing itself along her body, twisting and binding until it separated at her legs and arms. Continuing to sing and caress the workers guided the cloth into the shape and appearance of Susan's old Minbari crafted uniform.

When the uniform was done, one of them then started moving back toward the White Star. The other slowly and gently placed a tentacle against the side of Marcus' head. Marcus was strangely frightened; to be scared at this point after all he'd seen and done surprised him. He was also surprised to hear the voice in his head.

'_Think of her – she'll awaken. No more to do or be done by us, except to the ship.' _

Marcus wanted to say thank you, or to _think_ thank you, but by the time he'd realized the worker had gone it was too late.

Both workers had placed themselves outside of and underneath different parts of the ship. Then, to his shock and disbelief, they began to attack it. Maybe attack wasn't the right word, because the ship did not fight back, and did not seem to be using its self repair systems.

"Simulated crash…" Marcus thought out loud as the workers continued their mayhem. In minutes they'd managed to separate a wing and split the bridge section wide open. Sparks and small fires broke out, smudging the ships beautiful exterior.

He bent down and took some handfuls of dirt and started covering himself and Susan. He then took a small rock and banged himself on the forehead, just enough to break the skin and produce some blood and a good bruise.

He then lay down in the dirt a few feet from Ivoniva. As he began to concern himself with what position would look most natural after being thrown from the ship he laughed. All this way, all these accomplishments, and whether or not this worked relying on how he laid in the dirt. He was still laughing despite himself when he heard the White Star's gun discharge; he turned to see two small black craters.

'_Good God!'_ he thought. _'They don't do anything half way!'_ With the workers sacrifice, the stage was set. He lay there for a few minutes, blood trickling down the side of his face, just looking at the blue-green sky above and listening to the wind.

'_I'm sure Drall and Garibaldi have thought about food, water, etc. These buildings look like a house, shed perhaps. I just need to trust them. Here goes nothing.'

* * *

_

Day 3 5:00AM

On Lorien Prime, several glowing spheres busied themselves interacting with systems and controls too numerous to count. At each connection, and in response to every request for information, for any data regarding their recent guest Marcus, the result was the same.

On every display, through every telepathic link, from every spot on the planet and across their entire race Universe wide, the only thing they saw, the only clue they received was as follows:

_A green pasture, two bipedal life forms, each speaking ancient Human English, repeating the same mantra again and again and again._

'Duck season, rabbit season, duck season, rabbit season, duck season….."

Day 3 6:00AM

'_Susan, I love you…'_ Marcus thought to himself as he lay face down in the dirt on Epsilon Three. He felt her stir just a little bit away from him. She sat up and dusted herself off. Looking left and right she moved over and helped him roll onto his back.

"Marcus…..MARCUS…..are you ok?" She had him by the shoulder, wiping the blood from his cheek.

"Uhhh……Susan….what happened. Last thing I remember was being on the bridge of the ship……ohhh…..bloddy hell…..look….." he sat up on one elbow and pointed behind her to the wreck of a White Star a few dozen meters away.

"We had just cleared B5 space and a Destroyer jumped into our formation. Before I could make the decision to fire or maneuver we'd been hit. I think the Minbari onboard managed to evacuate, I'm not sure. We were heading toward Epsilon Three when I saw them hit B5. I think its gone Marcus; the explosions I saw were huge, the concussion knocked us out I think. I don't know if anyone knows we're down here."

Marcus sat fully up. "Oh, well. I'm sure someone knows were here. I don't intended on spending my entire life down here roasting marshmallows off a burning White Star. All Vorlon and Minbari, smokes likely to put hair on your chest and remove it from mine."

"Jeasus Marcus, what if that's true. What if we're really marooned here? Who knows if Drall will help us, if he even knows we're here?"

Marcus stood and surveyed the landscape. Trees with fruit, a running river a few miles away. "Well, as far as places go, could be worse. We should be able to hold up here until help comes."

"What if it doesn't Marcus?"

"Look at it this way. You said B5 was gone. If our portion of the fleet was destroyed they don't stand much chance of retaking Earth. No B5, Earth under Clark. This may be the best place in the Universe. I'll bet we'll have visitors by the shuttle full in weeks."

He took a step toward her, pointing all around them. "We could build the Casa De' Ivoniva over there, top of the line place of course; get top credits for a nights stay there. Oh, and over here could be the Chapeau Garibaldi. No bar of course but still, food's great, and over here….."

Susan grabbed his hands and held them. "Ok……ok Marcus. You really do make the best of situations don't you?"

Marcus looked into her eyes, catching her by surprise. "Well, not often in life we get a second chance. Best make all you can the first go around I always say."

The End

22


End file.
